


The Book

by belovedmuerto



Series: blood and moonlight [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vampire Bucky, Vampires, Witches, brief appearance by Pietro, witch steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: Steve has a distinct feeling there's something he needs to do tonight. If only he could figure out what that is.





	The Book

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure up next in this 'verse is going to be a longer fic. The one that I've been planning since i posted the first one. Hopefully!

He wakes up with a jolt. Blinks at the ceiling once, twice, and then sits up, looking around for whatever it is that must’ve woken him up. He strains to hear, but all he hears is his own breathing and Bucky snuffling a little behind him, making vague unhappy sounds that he’s moved and is letting cold air under the covers.

Bucky flaps at him a little, mumbling something about laying back down, voice slurred with sleep, and he obeys, pulling the covers up to his chin and shutting his eyes.

He’s not sure why he woke up.

Bucky shifts closer, mumbles “cold,” into his neck and slides an arm across his chest. Steve reaches up and wraps his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, and lays in the darkness of their room, thinking.

Bucky mumbles again, nothing coherent this time, and settles closer to him, sliding easily back into sleep. It’s not so easy for Steve. 

He lays there thinking for a long time.

Eventually he concludes that it was something in his head that woke him up. He doesn’t know if it was a dream, precisely, but something of it has stuck around. He has a feeling there’s something he needs to do today.

After a while, he drifts off again, into a light doze.

He dreams for sure, this time.

He dreams of his mother. Well, sort of. 

She looks a bit like Wanda, but the figure in his dreams is definitely meant to be his mother. He speaks with her, walking through the little garden that she used to keep at the side of their house. Before Pierce killed her so he could get to Steve.

She’d fought for him, at least. He doesn’t need a dream to tell him that. He’s known that his whole life. It’s one of the few certainties that he’s always been able to hang onto: that his mother had fought for his life with her own and paid dearly, paid the ultimate price.

His memories of her are dimmed by the long centuries she’s been gone and he’s been left behind, but he still has impressions of her. The lilt of her voice, snatches of her native tongue here and there, the color of her hair, her smile.

He might be crying a little bit when he opens his eyes again, missing his mother.

Steve glances at the clock on the bedside table, and knows that the sun hasn’t yet set. 

There’s an increasing feeling of urgency, though. He needs to get up. There’s somewhere he has to go.

He’s not sure where that is, yet. But there’s only so much longer he’s able to fight that growing feeling. 

He doesn’t like to get up much earlier than Bucky, though he does keep slightly different hours, rising for the day and going to bed a bit before him. This day, though. Today he needs to get moving. He’s got somewhere to be.

Steve just doesn’t know where, yet.

He can’t think like this, though, and he gives up, pushing the covers off himself slowly, looking at Bucky from the corners of his eyes, trying to slide out from under Bucky’s arm without waking him.

Just when he thinks it’s going to work, Bucky shifts, pulling him back across the bed and against him.

“Stay,” he mumbles, distinct enough that Steve understands him even without the accompanying feeling of longing that comes with it.

“Buck,” he murmurs in reply. “Gotta get up.”

Bucky shakes his head, tugging Steve close and pressing his face into the soft, sensitive skin of Steve’s neck. “No, not yet. Sleep more.”

“‘M’not gonna sleep anymore, Buck. There’s--” not really any point in trying to explain it to Bucky, not yet anyway. Not while he’s still asleep, reacting on instinct alone, inhibitions gone under his apparent need to keep Steve close right now.

Maybe it means something.

Maybe Bucky’s just feeling possessive. 

Steve can’t be sure which it may be, but he listens. He stays.

Bucky must hear his decision, or feel the way he forces his body to relax, because he makes a happy noise and goes a little aggressive in his snuggling, for just a few moments, as if to let Steve know he is glad that he’d stayed. 

Steve can feel how happy Bucky is that he’d stayed. It’s bright and pure in his mind, simple joy that Steve hadn’t left the bed.

It’s humbling, being the cause of such joy, over such a small thing.

Steve curls himself in Bucky’s arms, and waits.

\----

Bucky gets a little sheepish, when he wakes up and Steve is still curled up in his arms, looking at him with a smirk. Steve can feel him go sheepish as it dawns on him.

“Oh, I did it again, didn’t I?” Bucky asks. He has to force himself to let go of Steve, which very much means yes, he did it again.

Steve smiles and reaches out, resting his hand against Bucky’s cheek, smiling when Bucky turns into the contact.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You did.”

Bucky looks away from him. “Sorry, Stevie.”

“It’s OK,” Steve says, easy enough. In the end, it is OK, because staying put when he felt like he needed to get wherever it is he needs to go had given him time to think things through and figure things out, come to the conclusion that he probably needs to go see Wanda today.

If nothing else, she’ll most likely be able to help him parse wherever it is he actually needs to go. 

He’s decided that it’s important that Wanda was in his dream, even if she was a stand-in for his mother in it.

Something about the dream is important. He just hasn’t figured out what it is, yet.

“I had a dream,” he says.

Bucky looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

Steve shrugs and snuggles closer to Bucky. It’s easier to talk to him, about things that discomfit him, if he’s not looking Bucky in the eye. It’s not brave of him, he knows, but it helps. And Bucky accepts it, too. He just puts his arms around Steve and waits for him to go on. 

“I was walking with my mother. In her garden. Do you remember the garden she kept?”

“A little,” Bucky says. He has fewer memories of their childhood than Steve does, because of what Zola did to him for all those years. This one is at least a good one.

“I woke up and--” Steve takes a breath. “I just. There’s something I need to do tonight. And I’m not sure yet what it is. I’m gonna go to Wanda’s, I think. Start there.”

Bucky nods, tucking his chin over Steve’s head. 

“Do you want to go with me?” Steve asks.

Bucky hums a little, and Steve pulls back enough to look up at him.

“No?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not that. Peggy made me another appointment with that realtor for tonight. It’s probably pretty soon. I think we’re at least staying in Brooklyn tonight. I could meet you there after? Is tonight one of Wanda’s late nights?”

It’s Steve’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t think so. I can text her and ask.”

Bucky lets go enough for Steve to twist around and grab his phone from the nightstand.

Steve types out a quick text, ‘hey wanda, how late are you at the shop tonight? need to stop by late if i can?’

Steve drops his phone behind his back and snuggles back into Bucky, who gladly not only allows this, but also does some snuggling of his own.

It’s only a few minutes before Steve’s phone buzzes against his back. He reaches back and grabs it, turning his head to read it.

“She says she’s closing at ten but if I text her when I get there she’ll come back down and we can come in.”

Bucky has to blink. He’s only met Wanda a couple of times, but he knows that she and Steve are pretty close. He didn’t realize they were that close, though.

“She’d do that for you?”

Steve shrugs a little. “I mean, she only lives upstairs from the shop.”

“Steve, most people wouldn’t come back downstairs after closing up for the night for one person who’s not even sure he wants to buy something.”

Steve just shrugs again, brushing it off. “What time is your appointment?”

Bucky reaches over Steve and picks up his phone, where he’d dropped it behind himself again, and checks the time. “Ugh, in like forty minutes, I guess I gotta get moving. You wanna go with me to check this place out or meet after?”

“I’ll go with you.”

They both get up and are more or less presentable in short order. Bucky starts making coffee for Steve, and Steve puts together breakfast for himself. He tries to keep his fidgeting to a minimum, but he’s feeling very antsy.

He doesn’t think that going with Bucky to see the office space is what he’s supposed to be doing tonight, but he’s certainly very glad that Bucky is willing to go with him to see Wanda.

They’ll have to stop somewhere so he can pick up some tea for her. Or he’ll have to send her some later? He’s not sure, but he knows he’ll need to do something to make it up to her.

He really hopes she can help.

\----

The office space is nice, but Steve is distracted the whole time. All he really gets from it is that it’s nice. He knows that Bucky can tell he’s distracted, not paying attention. He tries to draw Steve out, a little, but gives up pretty quickly, letting him be in his own head.

Steve appreciates that. He’s got too many thoughts chasing each other around in his head right now to really be able to concentrate on anything else. He knows Bucky can tell how distracted he is, but all he really does about it is tuck Steve’s arm through his own and walk slowly, so Steve can keep up even in his current state.

Eventually, the tour ends. Bucky asks a few questions, and exchanges a bit of small talk with the realtor--what did he say her name was? Angel? Ashley? Angie? Something along those lines. 

He’s desperate to get moving.

Bucky definitely knows this. But he wraps things up without being rude to the realtor--it’s gotta be Angie, right?-- and they part ways.

Neither of them says anything until they’re on the platform waiting for the train. 

“You’re antsy,” Bucky observes. They’re still arm in arm.

Steve fidgets in place. If his hands were free, he’d be wringing them together. He suspects this is at least part of the reason that Bucky’s got their arms entwined.

Instead of replying, he just whines a little, under his breath.

“The train will be here soon, Stevie,” Bucky says, soothing.

Steve nods. “I know.” He can’t keep his eyes on one thing for more than a moment at a time.

“Hey.”

Bucky waits for him to look up at him, and then slowly pivots in place so he’s standing in front of Steve, practically looming over him, and folds down until their foreheads meet. 

“We’ve got this,” he murmurs.

Steve has no idea what it is they’ve got. He has no idea why he’s so anxious to get to Wanda’s. He doesn’t know anything and it’s driving him crazy.

But this helps. He shuts his eyes, and for a few moments, that connection with Bucky is enough to drown out his thoughts and soothe him. Bucky is feeling waves of calm and love at him, and it washes everything else away.

“Deep breath,” Bucky adds, still soft, and he takes deep breaths with Steve until the train arrives a few minutes later.

\----

Steve pulls his phone from his pocket when they get out of the subway, but his hands are shaking too much to actually type. He unlocks it and shoves it at Bucky with a wordless whine.

Bucky takes it from him and opens the messaging app quickly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Let her know we’re about three minutes away.”

“Ok.” Bucky texts very quickly, considering he has to do it one handed while holding on to Steve to keep him from basically collapsing into his component parts on the sidewalk.

He can feel Bucky’s worry for him, and he’s trying to keep it together, but it’s only going so-so at the moment. At least with Bucky here he doesn’t have to try quite so hard not to freak out, because he knows Bucky can handle it. Can keep him from completely flying apart.

It’s a relief. He’s very glad Bucky agreed to come with him.

The walk from the subway takes a little bit more than 3 minutes, but they make it in one piece.

Pietro opens the shop door to them, smirking. He’s always smirking though, so Steve doesn’t take it amiss. Buck bristles a little bit next to him, but that’s just as much because they’ve never met and Bucky is wary of new people as because Pietro can be kind of an ass.

“Wanda’s upstairs,” he says, and locks the door behind them. He leads them through the shop and behind the counter to the hall where the door to their apartment is, opening it and then giving Bucky a once-over.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Wanda,” Pietro yells up the steps. “Steve brought his bonded with him.”

A moment later, Wanda appears at the top of the stairs. She gives her brother a look and says, soft but firm, “Please, come in.”

Pietro is at the top of the steps in the blink of an eye, too fast for even Bucky to see, and he turns and gives Bucky another look. “You try to bite either of us, and we’ll fuck you up.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a look, and Steve rolls his eyes and thinks, ‘yeah, you get used to him.’

Bucky chuckles, relaxing a bit.

Wanda is waiting for them in the kitchen. “Sorry about Pietro,” she says. “He gets cranky when it’s past his bedtime.”

Across the room, Pietro sticks his tongue out at her, and then disappears.

“Thanks for letting me come over so late,” Steve starts, but Wanda holds up a hand, forestalling him.

“I know why you’re here,” she says.

“You do?”

She nods. “Would you like some tea?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Come then, sit.” She leads them into the living room and gestures them to the couch. They sit down side by side, and Bucky puts his arm around Steve. He’s trembling, with nerves, anticipation, dread, excitement. He appreciates the quiet support Bucky is giving him.

Wanda disappears down the hall for a few minutes, and returns with... a book.

It’s clearly old, and well-used and something inside Steve just says, “oh” when he sees it in her hands. It’s familiar. It’s achingly familiar.

“I think this is for you,” she says softly as she sets the book down on the coffee table in front of him.

Next to him, Bucky makes an inquiring noise, and Wanda glances over at him. “I can open it, but I can’t read it. And it just.” She shrugs. “It feels like Steve.”

He can feel Bucky look over at him, before he asks, “You can’t read it?”

Wanda shrugs again. “It’s not meant for me. The magic on it is strong, and protective.”

Steve hasn’t been able to move since everything in him said ‘oh’ at the sight of the book. The grimoire. He’s still staring at it. He knows exactly what it is, but he can’t quite believe it.

“Where’d you find it?” Bucky, asking the questions for him.

“Estate sale,” Wanda replies. “I knew I needed it, but I wasn’t sure what for until I held it.” She shrugs yet again. Magic is weird, and she’s used to it.

They both look at Steve.

“I--” he starts. Nothing else comes out.

He wants to hold it. He wants to smell its pages and remember.

He can’t bring himself to pick it up, terrified of what will happen when he does.

What if it doesn’t want him?

What if it does?

“Stevie?” Bucky asks. He must be worried, if he’s using that nickname in front of other people. “You all right, pal?”

Steve laughs, a little hysterical.

Bucky and Wanda exchange a look.

“Is this not--” Wanda starts.

“No, this is it,” Steve replies. His voice is a little higher pitched than normal. “This is what I was waiting for.”

He blinks several times, and manages to tear his eyes away from the book long enough to smile a little at Wanda.

“Do you know what it is?” Wanda asks.

He doesn't know why she’s asking. She should know.

“It’s a grimoire,” he murmurs.

Beside him, Bucky takes a deep breath, and tightens his arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve thinks maybe he’s starting to figure it out. Which is good. One of them should have an idea of whatever the fuck it is that’s going on.

Steve takes a deep breath, and reaches out to grab the book--

\----

There are three faces looming over him, when he opens his eyes. 

He is laying on Wanda’s couch with his head in Bucky’s lap. Bucky is running his cool fingers through Steve’s hair, soothing. Wanda looks down at him. Pietro is leaning over the back of the couch.

He’s eating popcorn. 

“Asshole,” Steve mutters.

Pietro crows. “See, he’s fine!” He disappears again.

Bucky leans over and kisses his forehead. “Had me worried, pal,” he murmurs, almost too low for him to hear.

“I’m OK, Buck,” Steve murmurs back. He looks over at Wanda. “Sorry. I’m not real sure what happened, but I’m sorry.”

Wanda shrugs again, enigmatic and serene. “I’m happy I was able to reunite you with your grimoire, Steve.”

“It was my mother’s,” he replies.

“Ah,” she concedes. “An heirloom. All the more important, I think. Let me get you some tea.”

She gets up and heads towards the kitchen.

Bucky is still worrying at him. “You feeling OK, Stevie?” He asks. He keeps running his fingers through Steve’s hair. It’s distractingly soothing.

He is clutching the grimoire to his chest. He can feel the magic within it, pulsing. Waiting.

“I think so,” Steve says. “Just. Tired?”

‘You wanna head home?”

Steve nods, slow, and after giving it a moment’s thought, he sits up. Bucky stays close to him, his hand on Steve’s back, supportive and still soothing.

Wanda reappears from the kitchen with a steaming mug in her hand. She hands it to Steve and sits down across from them again.

Steve holds the mug in both of his hands and inhales the herbal, earthy scent of the tea. It makes him feel better, even before he takes a sip, and he knows that Wanda did something to it. He appreciates it, and he sips carefully. 

It’s the perfect temperature. Hot enough without scalding his tongue or his throat on the way down. The warmth of it spreads through him, and he smiles.

“Thank you, Wanda,” he says. 

She shrugs, smiling a little. “I thought it would help.”

“It is.”

They all sit quietly while Steve finishes his tea. The book is in his lap, and he feels its presence acutely. Bucky’s arm is around him, a grounding point. And the tea warms him with every sip, spreading through his limbs to his fingers, his toes, hell even his hair.

“We should get going,” Bucky says, as Steve sets the mug down on the coffee table, and immediately picks the grimoire back up.

Wanda nods and stands. She comes over and gives Steve a quick hug, which he returns one-handed, still clutching the grimoire. She and Bucky nod at each other, and Pietro yells, “Bye!” from somewhere in the apartment.

Wanda walks them downstairs and through the dark shop, unlocks the door and lets them out.

“Stay safe,” she says. “Steve, let me know what you find?”

Steve says, “I will.”

Steve tucks his arm through Bucky’s and they head down the block, back towards the train.

“Do you want me to get us a Hearse(™)?” Bucky asks. Steve is not moving very fast, mind racing now for a different reason.

Steve shrugs. “If you want?”

Bucky looks him over for a minute, critical and assessing, then pulls out his own phone and opens the Hearse app.

“It’ll be five minutes or so,” he says after a moment. He tugs the book gently from Steve’s hands, unzips his jacket just enough to slip it inside, and then zips the jacket up again.

“Okay.” He’s agreeing to more than just the ride wait. Having the grimoire pressed against his chest like that is comforting. Steve tucks himself against Bucky’s chest, arms curled in front of him. Bucky puts his arms around him, and they stand together waiting for their ride.

A few minutes later, a black sedan pulls to the curb in front of them, and Bucky opens the door.

“Alistair?” He asks.

The driver, pale and in all black, definitely wearing eyeliner to emphasize the pallor and the shadows under his eyes, nods and says, “hey man, how’s it going?”

Bucky slides into the car and Steve climbs in after him.

The driver’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything about the breather in his backseat. He must not be vanilla human if he’s in a Hearse.

Or else he’s a snack.

——

“Thanks,” Bucky says as they climb out of the car, voice icy. He turns to look at the driver when Steve is on the sidewalk, glaring and letting his hackles rise.

The driver holds up his hands. “No offense meant, man.”

Bucky gets out of the car. 

Steve looks up at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing. He was being creepy.”

Steve hadn’t noticed, and he shrugs. He’d had bigger things on his mind.

“He kept scenting you.”

Steve wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

“Buck, I’m fine,” Steve insists. He will not admit that he sounds a little off even to his own ears, but judging by Bucky’s smirk he knows that Steve’s aware of it. He leads Steve down the stairs and into their apartment with a hand at the small of his back. Steve finds the contact reassuring.

Once they’re inside, Steve sort of floats into their little living room, dropping down on the couch and pulling the grimoire out of his coat and setting it on the table. He stares at it.

A few minutes or an hour later, Bucky comes into the room and sits down next to him.

“Are you just going to stare at this book for the rest of the night?”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Steve.”

Steve tears his eyes away to look at Bucky. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits.

Bucky puts his arm around Steve again, and Steve turns to wrap himself around Bucky. He turns his head to keep his eyes on the grimoire. He’s not sure why, but he’s having a really hard time letting it out of his sight.

Because it’s a piece of his past. It’s a piece of his mother. It’s powerful.

“C’mon,” Bucky says after a few minutes of just sitting quietly holding each other. “Let’s get up. Grab the book, I know you’re not leaving it behind anyway.” 

Steve picks up the grimoire, and lets Bucky pull him to his feet and lead him through the apartment to their room.

“Buck, I’m not tired,” Steve says as he sits on the bed. 

Bucky shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean we can’t spend the rest of the night in bed, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t have an argument for that. He can’t deny that he’s weary, bone-deep and dragging, but he’s certainly not ready to go to bed yet. Spending the rest of the night in bed, however, doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

He shrugs.

Bucky takes that as assent, and says, “Wait here. Put your pajamas on.”

Steve nods, and Bucky disappears.

While he waits, Steve puts his pajamas on and pulls the covers back, props his pillows up against the headboard and sits down. He puts the grimoire in his lap and goes back to staring at it.

It’s not going to bite him, of that he’s pretty sure. And he’s certain he’ll be able to read it, even though Wanda couldn’t.

He’s just not ready for that. Not yet. 

He’s not sure when he will be.

Bucky returns a few minutes later, with a tray laden down with food. He puts the tray down on the bed, and rummages around in the room until he comes up with a laptop, putting that on the bed as well.

“Do you want anything else?”

Steve looks at the food; there’s plenty there. More than enough for him for the rest of the night. Plenty of water, too. The laptop means they can binge something on Netflix. He glances at the bedside table where his book is if he decides he wants that.

“No, I think think this is good.”

Bucky smiles at him. He strips off quickly and puts on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. “Did you turn on the electric blanket?”

If they’re going to be in bed together, the blanket should be on. It makes the whole experience much more pleasant for the both of them. It helps warm Bucky up, and it keeps Steve warm while Buck leeches heat off him. 

It’s made a world of difference for them.

“Not yet,” Steve replies. He twists around and flips the blanket on, pulls the covers over his lap, and reaches for the tray of food.

The food tray goes over Steve’s lap, and Bucky climbs into bed and opens the laptop. 

They decide on a cooking show on Netflix to start. Something soothing and light. Steve nibbles on a sandwich and leans against Bucky, and Bucky enjoys Steve enjoying the food and the television.

\----

He wakes up with a jolt. Blinks at the ceiling once, twice, and then sits up, looking around for whatever it is that must’ve woken him up.

“Mrfgh, Steve,” Bucky mumbles, pawing at him, getting his arms enough around Steve to pull him back down to prone. He makes more unhappy noises as he grabs the covers and pulls them back over him. “Go back to sleep, it’s fine. S’bad dreams.”

He doesn’t know what woke him up, but he knows it wasn’t bad dreams. Still, he appreciates Bucky’s sleep-comforting of him. Steve lets himself be aggressively cuddled by Bucky--it’s not exactly a hardship, and for a while he dozes again. But he doesn’t really sleep, and he’s more or less awake for the night.

Bucky is dead to the world again beside him, seemingly unaware of his fretting.

Steve turns over in his arms and looks at his bedside table, where his mother’s grimoire is sitting. It’s waiting for him, patient.

He dozes off again, looking at the grimoire, and he dreams of his mother again.

They’re walking in the garden, hand in hand. She doesn’t look like Wanda this time; in fact her face is sort of blurred, hazy with time and distance and not having any pictures of her. Steve wishes fervently that he’d drawn his mother more in life. 

“You’re ready,” is all she says to him.

Steve wakes up again, and his eyes fall on the grimoire immediately.

He reaches out for it, pulls it over, props himself up on one hand because he knows Bucky won’t let him leave the bed just yet, and opens it.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @mariknickerbocker for the name of the vampire version of uber. <3
> 
> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/BelovedMuerto), or [dreamwidth](https://belovedmuerto.dreamwidth.org), or [tumblr](http://www.belovedmuerto.tumblr.com) i guess.


End file.
